Is that a Human Smell???

Anybody out there remember this Purple…Mammal?  Yep… It’s Grimace. Anyway, I think he’s a mammal, as he does appear to have hair. If we were judging his make-up and composition on the “animal, mineral, or vegetable” criteria, I know I would be willing to place his purpleness in the animal category. I guess if we are going to get technical, we would label Grimace as an anthropomorphic purple being. Although Grimace was a villain in his first campaign, his role was quickly reprised as to be a “good guy”--an integral part of the McDonald’s gang—whose clumsy antics provided a comedic component to the posse.
Oh, gone are the days when something purple and enormous were sufficient to satisfy your personal fantasy-land. If you are mounting a “what about Barney” defense to this thesis, all I can say is, at least they gave his purple-mass a few toe nails and spots. Grimace is somewhere between a gum-drop and a suppository in both shape and color. But before I relegate His perrywinkleness insignificant, it might be worthwhile to note that, with great expectancy I hurried to the Playland post-Happymeal to get inside Grimace’s gut, running hog-wild around the bars (see attached picture if I’m sounding medicated).

So what’s a grimace to you? By definition, a grimace is: "a noun, meaning an ugly twisted expression on a person’s face typically expressing disgust, pain, or wry amusement."  I am of the persuasion that the practical use of the word “grimace,” has grown archaic. Notwithstanding, it still has very specific uses limited to the facial contortions that occur responsively to malodorous smells. Point of fact, we recently acquired a piano—which I am convinced stinks like “Rice-A-Roni.” Even as I sit here working the keys of this instructive, I am grimacing at the pungent odor of the “San Francisco Treat."  There’s another smell issue to address... were the “Rice-A-Roni” smell coming off of a well intentioned stove-top, I would ride the rail down memory-lane to when mum and dad left us kids to ourselves with a box of R&R to stave off starvation during their “date-night” escape.  Whereas, it is NOT coming from a stove, but a piano, I am compelled to dry heave. It’s really messing with my mind. 

A grimace has ensued…